Reflections
by JonWilhoit
Summary: A little character sketchtype thing in which a runner laments his past and questions his chosen career.


This entry is a sort of character sketch for a character I run in a weekly Shadowrun game online. It was written mainly for my own benefit and that of the GM so he could know where I wanted to take the character's emotional evolution. This is by no means supposed to be an all-inclusive story, though I believe I could write a very strong one given some of the more memorable ones in this campaign (and maybe I will in the future). It is simply a chance to get into the psyche of this character and delve into the relationship between he and his troll significant other (btw, I know the names are rather contrite and ironic, but I didn't plan it, the names just came up that way in the campaign). Peaches grew up in the barrens, joined a gang, got indebted to the mob, became a shadowruner, and up until this point, he's been in the biz for two and a half years. It just struck me that maybe this might seem sappy to some folks, but who cares, right? Anyway, many things have transpired in that relatively short time, and if you have any questions or would like to learn more, don't hesitate to give me a shout on e-mail.  
  
Disclaimer: Shadowrun was the property of FASA, but since they went belly- up, WizKids has it now. I don't own the rights to the genre, nor have I ever. The characters here ARE mine, so hands off! =)  
  
Reflections  
  
Deep in the Seattle metroplex, sirens split the night air. Normally that wouldn't be an unusual occurrence. In a city that never sleeps, crime never sleeps either. But this night was different. The wail of passing squad cars didn't occasionally pass by the Bellevue apartment and then fade into the night once more. Instead, they were a constant droning presence like a swarm of bees rushing back and forth in a frenzy of activity. With the new rounds of goblinization, humanis policlubs had been whipped into a frenzy, and their members had taken to the streets in protest. Protest quickly turned to violence and looting as anti-metahuman sentiment exploded in a rush of anger and pent-up frustration. The city was in chaos, but lying in the quiet of their darkened bedroom, two of the people in that frenzied metropolis were able to find solace in each other.  
  
Peaches lay on his back, one arm under his head as he stared up at the dim ceiling. The other cradled his lover's substantial body against him. Beside him, Sugar lay her horned head on the ork's shoulder, slipping her hand under his shirt to gently rub his belly. Neither said a word. They just listened to the muffled sound of Lone Star sirens screaming by their apartment building.  
  
Finally the sirens faded, and a rare silence descended upon the their little portion of the city. Sugar closed her eyes, sinking deeper toward a slumber that had eluded her all night.  
  
Peaches' soft utterance broke the silence. "My real name is Derek."  
  
Jarred from her dozing, Sugar raised her head off of his shoulder and fixed him with a curious look.  
  
The ork was silent a moment before continuing, his eyes still staring up at the ceiling. "My parents were Wallace and Lisa Watson. My mom split on us when I was five . . . and 'den I split on my dad when I was fourteen. I haven't talked to eidder of 'dem since."  
  
"Why are you telling me all of this?" Sugar asked, her husky voice barely audible.  
  
Peaches shrugged, "I dunno really . . . I've never told anyone before."  
  
Neither of them knew what else to say. It was several minutes before he spoke again. "Maybe I'm getting tired of it all—all the drek 'dat goes into 'dis life. I'm tired of havin' to look over my shoulder every time I go outside. I'm tired of tryin' to maintain rep and street cred all 'da damn time. I'm tired of wonderin' if I'm even gonna live 'trough 'da next job. Sugar, I'm just tired of it . . . and I'm wonderin' if it's all even wort' it anymore."  
  
The troll didn't say anything but just put her arm around him, waiting for him to continue.  
  
Peaches gave a humorless laugh, "I can't even count 'da number of times I've been shot. I'd need help to count all 'da scars on 'dis body. Hell, I almost died twice."  
  
"But you made it through all of that," Sugar protested softly. "Your alive, here with me."  
  
"In 'da past, I've felt almost invincible, like I could take any'ting life 'trew at me and still come out on top . . . but I got 'dis gnawin' feeling in my gut. Dis sense of dread dat my time is comin'. Most of 'da chummers I grew up wid' are dead and buried. I've outrun da barrens, outrun Tony, even outrun dat bitch Kali . . . but I feel like any moment it could all catch up wid me, and I'll end up face-down in a gutter somewhere, some no- name piece of street trash swept aside like yesterday's garbage."  
  
He sighed, rolling over to face Sugar. "Sometimes I get tired of being Peaches. I . . . I just want a chance to be Derek."  
  
She raised her hand to tenderly touch his face, "You know I'll support whatever you do."  
  
He looked down, "Dis is da life I've always known." He raised his metallic right hand, holding it before his face, "I'm not really a person . . . I'm a fraggin' weapon for God's sake. I don't even know if I can do any'ting else . . . but I want to. God, I want to be sumpin' more dan a tool who sells out to da highest bidder. I just don't know what to do . . . " He looked back up at her imploringly, "What do you 'tink?"  
  
She took a moment to think before responding. "I sympathize with you, Peaches. I know what you're going through . . . but I can't make that decision for you. It's something you have to decide on your own."  
  
Peaches huffed and rolled over on his back, "Just like a woman. I ask you for advice, and you try to empathize wid me."  
  
"So what, you just want me to tell you what to do? You want me to make up your mind for you?" When he didn't respond, she pressed on, "Peaches, I know you. I know you're not going to be satisfied with anything unless you figure it out for yourself. You may think you want me to hand you a plan that will solve all your problems, but I know this is something you have to figure out on your own."  
  
He didn't respond, but just kept his eyes focused on the roof above.  
  
Sugar levered herself up on her elbow, leaning forward so her face hovered over his. "I've never told you this, but I love you . . . Derek."  
  
He looked up into her eyes, a look of appreciation apparent upon his face.  
  
"You have a good heart," she continued. "I know whatever decision you make, it will be the right one."  
  
He reached up behind her head, weaving his fingers into her hair as his lips quirked in a small appreciative smile. "'Tanks."  
  
Outside, the sirens resumed their cacophonous orchestra. The turmoil in the streets went on unabated, but the tumult in Peaches' soul had settled, at least for the night. 


End file.
